


Alone

by Artrix



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 16:20:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11535912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artrix/pseuds/Artrix
Summary: Sypha had never been afraid to be alone, especially if it meant doing what was right.





	Alone

Sypha had seen the downtrodden and despairing, the beaten and broken, and the lost souls of the world, but she had never seen anything like Gresit.

At least, nothing like how Gresit was _now_.

When she and the other speakers had arrived, it was with hope in their hearts. Or, maybe the rest of them were just pretending, clinging to the thought that maybe their presence could _mean_ something to townspeople as their world was torn apart.

The hope was real in her heart. She truly believed that they could _do_ something to help them. Her faith never wavered and she was determined to do all that was necessary to make this world a better place.

At first, they tended to the injured. They tried to support them and inspire them to fight, to _live_ , but it took only a few days for Sypha to realize that they had already given up.

It was a strange thing, to look into the eyes of someone younger than her, and to know that they were done. Done fighting, done living.

Blood and carnage were strewn across the street and no matter how quickly they tried to clean up the remnants of the previous night’s raid, there was always more.

Perhaps, she could understand why things might seem hopeless.

These people were cleaning up _pieces_ of friends, family.

The sudden image of her grandfather strewn in pieces on the ground was enough to make her lightheaded.

She did not stay out that night; she was the first of their group to return to their safeplace.

But Sypha did not quit. How could she?

The image of her grandfather, her friends, maimed and discarded on the streets would not leave her mind. She paced about the dimly lit building, stomach twisting in knots. She could find no peace here, either.

Sypha was not like the women out there; she couldn’t stand idly by while the people in her life were taken from her. She had more fight in her than any of the men she’d seen.

All her life, she had spoken out for what she believed in—what was a speaker for, if not to _speak_?

She was ready to lash out at the first speaker to pass through the threshold, ready to demand they take action, _real_ action, and yet she was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even hear her grandfather enter.

“Sypha,” he said, voice as worn with grief as with age.

She spun to meet him. “Grandfather.”

He bowed his head in greeting and took slow steps towards the battered chair in the corner. “I was looking for you. I didn’t see you out there.”

She drew in a slow breath and nodded. “It’s not enough.”

He took his seat and lifted his eyes to hers. “It is all we can do.”

“No,” she said firmly, hands balling into fists at her side. “It is _not_ enough. We can do more.”

He watched her, silently. She waited for him to say something but instead he seemed like he was waiting.

He had that sad, knowing look in his eyes; the one she had seen when he told the dying victims that things would be all right. That everything was going to be okay.

A lump formed in her throat and she lifted her head, trying to will more strength into herself, her words.

“ _I_ can do more.”

She watched her grandfather clench his teeth and lower his gaze. It took him a long moment before he nodded. “Perhaps.”

It wasn’t a no, but then, he had never really discouraged her. He had supported her in everything she had ever put her heart into. He had _guided_ her, but never forced her.

And yet, a part of her had hoped he would disagree with her. She wanted to argue; she had spent this long pacing, building up her argument, and when she saw him nod, the fire in her heart flickered.

He wasn’t going to fight. He wasn’t going to tell her that the prophecy wasn’t meant for her. He wasn’t going to tell her to sit by and tend to the wounded and wait for Destiny to find someone else.

“My magic is the strongest,” she insisted, very well aware of how much her words still sounded like she was arguing.

“Yes,” he agreed.

Her shoulders squared and she stood up as tall as she could manage. “Then, I will go to find him.”

Her grandfather didn’t move for a long moment. His eyes closed as though he was in pain and she watched his lips twist in silent prayer.

He nodded and said softly, “It could be no one else.”

The words took her by surprise; she felt a stab in her heart when she saw the pain in his eyes but she couldn’t back down. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she clenched her hands into fists at her side. She was desperate not just to go now, but to reassure her grandfather.

“I can do this. I have trained, my whole life. I will bring him here, and he will save us.”

“There is more to it than just that,” he reminded.

“I know, but I cannot stand by and wait.”

“You will prepare before you leave.”

Once more, Sypha was startled. She squinted her eyes, trying to determine if this was some sort of trick. This was not going the way she expected; her grandfather had always been protective of her; more than just his grandchild, she was the last remnant of the child he’d lost. “You will help me?” she tested carefully.

A tired smile, humorless, slipped onto his face. “If I did not, you would leave while I slept. You have made up your mind. I will not fight you. There is enough fighting going on, out there.”

He nodded towards the cracked window; she didn’t look. She didn’t want to think about the streets of Gresit or all their despair.

He continued, “It will not be easy, Sypha.”

“No.” She knew that. She did not have images of glory in her head; only change. “If it were easy, any man could do it.”

He nodded once more. “You have always been something special, Sypha.” Softer, he added, “More than you know.”

The evening was quiet; when the rest of the Speakers returned, the conversation was broached.

No one told her not to go, but no one volunteered to join her. Her grandfather, she didn’t blame; he had seen many years and was not fit enough for the journey she expected, but the others? They wanted to do the right thing, but Sypha was braver than them. They made excuses, that they could do more in the city.

And yet, they encouraged her to go.

They believed in her, where they could not believe in themselves.

She did not allow the fear of traveling allow hinder her.

Sypha believed in the stories, and she believed in herself.

She slept well that night and left at the crack of dawn.

Fresh corpses and destruction greeted her sight, but she walked with her head held high. She walked, _alone_ , towards the catacombs. She descended, _alone_.

It was a perilous path from the beginning; she did not know what path to take, so she followed her heart. The main room seemed like it hadn’t seen loving attention in a while; she paced the great mausoleum, searching for some passageway to guide her towards the Savior she _knew_ she could find. It took only a moment; she hadn’t even needed to use her magic to ascend the narrow passageway.

She was careful but she didn’t waste time; she aspired to have this done before night set on the town. She knew how Gresit handled the swarms; she didn’t know what happened to the catacombs.

Death did not scare her, nor darkness. She carried the prophecy in her heart and let it strengthen her.

And yet, for all her preparations, there was a naivety in her.

She had really expected to find him. In her mind, she skipped from the beginning of her journey to the end; she departed the Speakers with their praise and support and she would find their Sleeping Savior and return.

In the story she’d told herself, it would be an arduous search—dangerous, but nothing she wasn’t prepared for.

Sypha had never expected a Cyclops would linger in the catacombs.

It hadn’t been easy to see at first; the rooms were dark and difficult to navigate through. She carried a small orb of fire in the palm of her hand and let it illuminate her way as she stepped over dust and debris

Sypha was so accustomed to the sight of corpses on the ground that she did not think to examine the bodies doubled over; she simply assumed they were the long dead.

She did not see the stone that coated them, did not think to be afraid until suddenly, in the darkness before her, a purple orb lit up.

Her heart stopped and she drew back; the fire in her hand was immediately extinguished.

Time seemed to move slower; Sypha knew her heart was pounding in her chest and yet she only heard it as a slow, steady pound. At first, she though the Cyclops might not have seen her, but what luck she thought she’d been having ended when its purple eye centered on her.

It raised one giant foot and took a step towards her; the pressure alone was enough to send ripples through the ground. It wasn’t enough to knock her off her feet but it _was_ enough to remind her to _focus_.

It was not the first monster Sypha had crossed paths with, but it _was_ the largest, and it had taken her by surprise. Even now, she wasn’t sure how something so massive even _got_ down here–not when she’d had to crawl and wriggle through narrow passages even to just reach _this_ chamber.

She took one step back and raised her hand. Focusing, she felt the magic swirl around. The wind whipped around her, but it was fire that she chose to call out for.

A golden flame appeared before her and the Cyclops’ eyes squinted just slightly. The light was foreign and blinding, and for a moment she thought she could get the upper hand. If she could just get one good blast into its eye, she could make a run for it— _maybe_ even destroy it.

Hope fluttered in her heart when a stream of flame burst in a fiery wall before her, arching up towards the monster.

And then he blinked, and a purple beam came down on her.

She had been chilly before, but now she was cold. Frozen in place. She didn’t have time to realize what had happened until the Cyclops took a step closer and she couldn’t move away.

Fear clutched her, then; the last thing she saw was the grey rock enveloping her skin.

“No,” she gasped, face contorted in horror. Her eyes lifted once more, to stare down the creature as it took another fierce step towards her.

Her eyes glazed over before her mind did, but there was less than a second between when her vision went black and when her mind did.

She had time enough for one last thought before the darkness claimed her:

She was a Speaker, a Magician, a _Scholar_ …

And her story was far from over.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This was partially a warmup and also a request from tumblr, "something with Sypha, maybe her in the catacombs with the cyclops before Trevor shows up?" I have a few things I want to write, but I'm also looking to take some requests in the meantime! If you have any requests, please check out my profile for information!


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